


Lonely Winter Chill

by dorkpatroller



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Intercrural Sex, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Reunited and It Feels So Good, dancer!inigo, inigo is very happy to be with his boyfriend again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-04 22:52:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14030592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorkpatroller/pseuds/dorkpatroller
Summary: Inigo does cry this time. It’s not just some other variation of himself—this is his Gerome! His Gerome that was with him at the festival. Who helped him dress and who kissed his forehead and told him he would make his mother proud.





	Lonely Winter Chill

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iavenjqasdf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iavenjqasdf/gifts).



> A patreon request :)

The walls around Inigo are echoing with the sound of his shoes tapping on the stone while he runs. Through these winding turns and torch-lit halls it would be easy to get lost, but by now he knows the way. The soles of his shoes slide across the floors as he takes a turn too fast. He stumbles, but he doesn’t fall.

_ Damn these shoes _ , he thinks to himself, but it’s not as if he has any others handy. His boots, his armor, his  _ clothes _ … they’re all back home. Being plucked out of a performing arts festival by the Summoner wasn’t exactly his plan. Still, these shoes carry him well enough towards the summoning chamber.

Inigo thought it was amazing at first. The Summoner could pull heroes from different times and worlds across all of history and future to aid them in their quest. He cried when he saw his mother again. But he learned quickly that even meeting his mother, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t  _ his _ mother.

He met all sorts of heroes. Some he knew, some he didn’t, and now he is less interested in the days that new heroes are recruited. Even if he knows them by name, he doesn’t know who they are. Not really. None of them seem to be from the same strand of time that he is. Hell, he even met a variation of  _ himself! _ One who typically avoids him and stays close with a distant prince and a girl with cotton-candy hair. 

 

Inigo doesn’t care. He avoids the summoning rituals. Until today.

Today a team went to battle and when they returned gossip spread quickly. Summoned amidst the fighting, a new hero appeared to join them. One that rode on the back of a dragon and wore a mask, they said, and Inigo’s heart stopped.

His body comes to an abrupt stop as well, while he stares at the closed doors of the summoning chamber. He overheard that he was here. That he wanted to see the chamber for one reason or another. If it’s Gerome, and if Inigo  _ knows _ Gerome, it’s because he wants to find a way to get back home. There is none, not without the Summoner’s approval.

This has to be Gerome. There’s almost no question. The descriptions all matched. Dark armor, red hair, dragon, mask… who else could it be? But Inigo’s heart is thudding violently in his breathless chest because it has to be  _ his _ Gerome. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if it’s not. If he pushes open this door and that man looks at him like he’s never seen him before in his life… well Inigo might just die on the spot.

It’s a risk worth taking, to see him again. Inigo catches his breath and straightens himself up. He pushes open the doors. His heart is just racing, it won’t stop. How can it? He’s going to see Gerome again. Even if it’s not the same Gerome, that alone is worthwhile. Just to hear that gruff voice. Just to see him standing there healthy and alive will be more than enough.

But the room is empty—if it’s to be called a room at all. It’s more of a garden, and right now it’s covered in a layer of heavy white snow. Inigo’s heart drops into his stomach. Is he already gone? Unexpected tears spring to his eyes, already threatening to become icy, but he blinks them back easily enough. This is silly. Of course he hasn’t already gone. No one yet has been sent home so quickly. Then again, if he knows Gerome he likely has been pushing to leave since the moment he got here. He doesn’t have any ties to this world, or business in it. He hardly wanted to go with them to change the flow of time in their  _ own _ world.

Inigo steps forward into the summoning chamber. It’s usually so lively, when it’s active. When the Summoner is calling upon heroes from other worlds, people gather to see who will arrive. Right now, in the middle of another Tempest, there isn’t much in the way of summoning to be done. It is just a battle to cut down another foe, to stand in clear skies once more until the next assault. This garden is entirely void of life. Just that engraved monolith, dull without magic currently coursing through it, and some stray snowflakes to keep it company.

Inigo sighs while he draws his fingertips over the chilled monolith. Maybe, he thinks, he’s just gone to bed? He can find him. He’s sure he can. But before he has a chance to deliberate further, he hears his own name. “Inigo?”

His head snaps in the direction of the door. He gasps. There he is. Gerome. Staring at him from the doorway—and where did he come from? He looks the same as always: tall, dark, unjustly handsome. Inigo’s heart starts pulsing so fast that he shuts his mouth lest it try to escape. His breath is hard to catch when he’s looking at him. It’s been so long! He covers his lips with his fingertips and he wonders again if this is  _ his _ Gerome.

He doesn’t have to wonder long. “You disappeared from that festival,” Gerome says, “I assumed the worst. You’ve been trapped here, all this time?”

Inigo does cry this time. It’s not just some other variation of himself—this is  _ his _ Gerome! His Gerome that was with him at the festival. Who helped him dress and who kissed his forehead and told him he would make his mother proud.

 

Inigo can hardly believe it, but he swipes away his tears and then he runs forward to throw his arms around his shoulders. This is him! The same Gerome who put up with his silly competitions and who let Inigo drag him to festivals and out for nights on the town. The same Gerome who reserved smiles and affection just for Inigo.

He holds him so tight, and Inigo whimpers. “You’re here; It’s really you. I’ve missed you.” Oh, he’s missed him dearly. He pushes himself onto the platforms of his feet so he can kiss him. Does he ask permission? No, but he knows he has it. He’s the only one who can have it. Gerome’s lips are a touch chapped with the cold, but in a good way. A familiar way. A tangible sense of familiarity that has Inigo pushing himself closer still. “Don’t leave me alone here, don’t go back without me.”

 

Gerome is fast to respond. He brings his hand up and it settles in Inigo’s hair in a way that brings another muffled sob to Inigo’s lips. He can’t help it, of course. He’s missed him! Inigo clings to his sleeves and he’d like to keep kissing him but for a moment he just rolls his lips in tight and tries not to cry. He’s only vaguely aware of Gerome removing his mask and tucking it away safely.

Slowly, perhaps gently, Gerome tilts Inigo’s chin upwards just enough that their eyes meet. Inigo’s brim with tears all over again. He looks so in love, in that moment. At peace the way he was the day Inigo asked him to stay by his side forever—they’ve been through hell already after all. He guides Inigo’s lips back to his own and this time Inigo’s eyes barely have time to slide closed. He’s kissed gently. Affectionately. Like with one wrong move he might vanish.

There’s just silence, until Inigo tries to fill it with something. Anything. Gerome shivers and Inigo plucks at Gerome’s shirt as their lips part. “Where’s your armor?” He sniffles.

“In my room. I was preparing to rest for the evening when I thought I saw you run past.” Gerome pulls Inigo forward until he can comfortably lay against his chest. Inigo sighs and rests his head against his shoulder. He smells like home. If this is a dream he never wants to wake up. For that reason he just accepts the answer to be sufficient. Gerome is here and his embrace isn’t impeded by armor. Inigo’s smile is strangled while Gerome swipes at the tears in his eyes. 

 

“I didn’t know if I would ever see you again,” Inigo admits. Gerome brings a hand to rest in the curve of Inigo’s back. It draws him in closer and forces their bodies to come together. It also encourages Inigo’s voice to stay low and in a whisper against Gerome’s lips. “I missed you, I missed you so much…”

Inigo’s sobs turn into gentle murmurs against Gerome’s reassuring kisses. His hand on Inigo’s back is warm and heavy, the hand combing through his hair and holding his face keeps him close. Their kisses, like their hearts, grow needy. Sweet reassuring pecks melt into heavy, deeper kisses. The sort of kisses that have Inigo reaching up and brushing his thumbs along Gerome’s jaw. Kisses that have him panting against his lips and gasping lightly when their hips brush together.

“I searched the world over for you,” Gerome mumbles into the skin just below Inigo’s ear while he kisses over it. Inigo has never regretted how much skin is  _ covered _ by his present outfit before. He wants, burns really, to bare his neck for kisses, for nips and bites and marks that will embarrass him later.

“You’ve found me, now,” Inigo coos back. His eyelashes are still damp but he’s warm now. Relieved. Safe and happy and with the man he loves above all else. He squirms for more of his affection. Rocks their hips together with purpose to drive home a point. “I’m all yours.”

A point well received. Gerome’s hand, once centered on Inigo’s back, comes to lay over his hip. His fingertips are bare and they push between his skin and the fabric of his outfit, until they’re burning and needy against his skin. And then, just like that, they’re gone.

Gerome pushes Inigo away from him. It’s cruel! Inigo chases his lips in a final kiss but he’s left with nothing. “Gerome?” He asks softly. He looks down. Gerome grips his hand tightly and pulls. He gives no instruction but Inigo follows easily. He’s sure this can only be guidance back to the room he calls his own in the barracks.

His back hits Gerome’s door the moment they’re inside and his reservations fly out of it. He gasps with every touch. Gerome’s hands slide up Inigo’s exposed midriff and over his abs. They slip back down to settle momentarily on his hips, and then they come down further to work impatiently at the clasp of his belts. Pretty, decorative, but certainly in the way. Inigo eagerly redirects Gerome to kiss him again, this time far more demanding.

The clank of metal hitting the floor is the only warning Inigo has before Gerome’s hips swing forward into his. Inigo’s body is pinned to the door twice as hard with him grinding their bodies together. That friction is a godsend, heat and anticipation and pent up loneliness come together and Inigo finds his body eager and wanting. Not even a breath later Gerome  _ moves again,  _ however, and Inigo is already sick of it. “Don’t,” He tries.

Gerome repositions himself so that his knee is settled between Inigo’s legs. With just that gentle movement Inigo has something to rock against, to dry hump for pressure and friction. “Don’t what?” Gerome asks, probably amused.

Inigo shakes his head. “Nevermind,” he gasps. He realizes why Gerome chose to shift around a breath later anyway. He’s working open the clasps on Inigo’s pants, working open all of it so he can strip them away. When he’s finished he steps back and begins to work at his own belt. Inigo lets him handle that. He’s got to get rid of these dumb clothes anyway. It’s an ordeal to get them on and off but he steps out of his shoes and wriggles out of the pants and ultimately they become a pile on the floor. The chilly air is immediately shocking. Inigo shudders and melts closer to Gerome. It’s pleasant and warm when he slides his arms up to keep him close.

“I didn’t expect to come here. I expected the cold even less.” Even indoors it’s chilly. Gerome’s concern is entirely valid.

…But Inigo slides his hand up to hold his cheek and he brushes the pad of his thumb over those chill-chapped lips. “Don’t worry, love. I’m sure I can think of some creative ways to keep you warm.” It’s with that promise on his lips that Inigo begins to pluck open Gerome’s shirt. The moment he can, he spreads the fabric open wide and rubs his palms over the expanse of his chest. “Missed you,” He admits in a whisper.

Gerome hums something soft and sweet. A noise too affectionate for his usual gruff persona. Inigo loves it. Little noises of affection that are reserved just for him. Maybe Inigo would have been more focused on removing his  _ own _ shirt, if not for the fact that he’s so interested in looking at Gerome. His handsome, bad-boy boyfriend. He worried he’d never see him again, but now he just wants to remind him that he’s Inigo’s entire  _ world _ . He steps closer. He pushes their lower bodies together. Naked and hard; he can feel how desperate Gerome seems to have missed this too.

 

He has to stand on his toes to do so comfortably, but with their bodies pressed so close together Inigo easily clamps his thighs shut tight around his cock. Gerome makes a noise. Maybe a moan, maybe a growl, but it brings a smirk to Inigo’s lips. “Just keeping my word, is all. This is warm, isn’t it?”

Yes, this is a good decision. Inigo wraps his arms around Gerome’s shoulders tight and Gerome experimentally pulls his hips back. Then back forward. Inigo moans with the feeling of his cock rubbing past his balls. He moans even better when Gerome works a hand between them to stroke Inigo.

Or at least, he does once. After that he’s mostly still, only casually and slowly sliding his cock in and out of Inigo’s thighs. Inigo bites the corner of his lip and looks up at Gerome from beneath his lashes. “ _ Gerome,” _ he whines.

“Inigo.”

Inigo snorts at how Gerome just acknowledges him. He’s teasing him. On purpose! Inigo not-so-gently tries to thrust up into Gerome’s hand. It’s hard! He wants to keep his thighs together tight. “Gerome…”

After that Gerome slides his nose down into Inigo’s neck. He kisses over the hem of his shirt. Kisses where his jaw is squared. “I’ve missed you, Inigo. The way you smile, the way you smell when we’re intimate… The noises you make when you cum.”

“Please?” Inigo whimpers out the request. “Keep--keep touching me.”

After that it’s all a blur. Inigo melts against the cool door. Gerome’s hand around his cock is heat. The way he thrusts forward hard and rhythmically is a reminder. He wants more—needs more. He can’t wait until they have a chance to do that again, too, but this is good enough for now. This is their bodies intimate and close, and gods just listening to Gerome moan like that is driving him up the wall. Gerome keeps smearing precum around the head of Inigo’s cock, but more keeps gathering. He won’t last long, not like this. Not with Gerome moaning into his ear. Not with the promise of later on his mind.

His head lolls back onto the door with a thud and Inigo’s chest heaves. He never did take of his shirt, but Gerome uses his free hand to thumb at his nipple right through the thin fabric. Inigo barely manages to push his chest forward to meet those lovely touches.

“Keep going, keep going,” Inigo whispers sweet encouragement to Gerome. He can tell he’s close. He’s getting less steady. His pattern is all over the place. Inigo does his best to tighten his thighs even more, and he grins with Gerome’s breathy gasp.

“ _ Inigo _ ,” He sputters. Inigo drops one eye closed in an exhausted, yet playful, wink. “I’m close,”

“I’ll cum with you--just don’t stop,” Inigo says it quiet and slow, like a promise. Gerome keeps up those thrusts and Inigo can feel the inside of his thighs grow sticky-slick when he cums. He keeps up with Inigo’s request, nonetheless. He keeps thrusting, spreading around that mess and Inigo’s voice cracks with his own moans. “Hell,” He chokes trying to bring in air to carry him through this whirlwind of an orgasm. He can barely stay on his feet, though, let alone calm down his breath.

“Gerome,” Inigo finally finds himself gasping out his name. Gerome answers by pulling Inigo forward and into a rough kiss. Slowly, because his arms feel like jelly, Inigo reaches up and cups either side of his boyfriend’s face. “Mmn… I missed you.”

Gerome tries to cover up his snicker. “So I’ve heard.” He turns and gestures to his bed. “Don’t’ leave here tonight, then.”

Oh. If he stays there’s no doubt some rumor will get out, but he doesn’t think he can bring himself to care. He loves this man! He can’t believe how lucky he is that his very lover came to him. To help him, guide him, get him through. Inigo lays his forehead against Gerome’s shoulder. “Anything, to keep you warm,” He teases with kiss-swollen lips. Anything to keep Gerome warm forever, inside and out, because when Inigo is reunited with Gerome he doesn’t feel the cold.

  
  



End file.
